Finding Felicity
by NaturalSAB
Summary: Post season two finale. Felicity is tired of being Oliver Queen's collateral damage. Olicity.


**Finding Felicity**

She was going to end this.

Now.

Nearly two years. Nearly two years of working overtime, turning a blind eye, and following some self-obsessed _vigilante_ around through every hare-brained scheme and threat like a long-lost puppy.

It was pathetic.

No more so than when he gazed longingly into her eyes and professed his love for her. And she believed him. _She had believed him_.

She graduated from MIT damn it. She was well versed in unraveling mysteries, solving puzzles, assessing vulnerabilities of systems, and all forms of infiltration. She had been offered a prestigious position in their doctoral computer security department and was considering dropping this entry-level IT gig for a return to Boston when he had waltzed into her life. Oliver Queen. Now, two years later, and it took the blindingly embarrassing instance of a fake love proclamation to finally open her eyes to the obvious.

She was totally and completely pathetic.

Mr. Queen may have faced his maker on that island, but Felicity had been surviving her own unfeasible, lonely battle her entire life. She depended only upon herself for safety, security, smarts, and survival. She knew no other reality. Now, she had slipped comfortably into the role of damsel in distress and faux-secretary to some man's secret superhero billionaire CEO. This would have repulsed the Felicity from two years ago. That girl would have claimed the CEO position for herself or settled for nothing less than full partner.

She missed that girl.

Instead, this girl had fallen headlong into some inane fantasy of the unlikely romance between a nerdy, underprivileged woman from the wrong side of town and the reformed, handsome playboy. Late at work, she may slip off her glasses and let down her hair, and he would catch one fateful sight of her and fall irresistibly and irreversibly in love. Blegh, gag, _vomit_. How had she let herself get this far-gone?

Gingerly, she picked herself up off the floor of her dingy, tiny bathroom. Sirens wailed through the miniscule window over her shoulder as her shadowy reflection stared back at her. She removed her previously coiffed ponytail and shook out her hair, staring at the caked blood around her nose and temple. She smiled. The imperfections gave her appearance a welcome grit. She felt more real than she had in months.

Yes, this time in the Arrow lair had been an experiment in the meaning of justice, vengeance, and the law. She still felt a moral obligation for the work she made possible with the hood. But, she knew, there were others who could easily fill her position no matter what he spouted about "partners". Others who hopefully would be less stupid and naïve than her.

Felicity wound her hair up in an untamed bun as the sun rose. It was time for a change.

* * *

Two weeks later and she sat in an opulent café in the center of Star City with a hot tea clutched to her chest.

"Does this have anything to do with what I said?"

"It has a lot to do with that, actually." Her voice was cold.

He nodded. "I understand."

"I don't think you do," blood rushed to her cheeks. "I'm not in love with you, Oliver. I'm not in love with anybody. In fact, I don't think I've experienced love in a very long time. I am, however, hurt. I am incredibly intelligent in my own right. I've been insanely successful despite many personal obstacles. I have bent over backwards for you these past two years, and all I've gotten in return is used." She took a deep breath, and his look hardened. "I never knew the Oliver Queen from before, but I'm not OK with how you treat me now."

She felt an odd sense of calm. It was the longest she'd gone speaking to him without putting her foot in her mouth.

He was quiet for a very long time. She liked to think he was speechless.

She cleared her throat. "I've been offered a position in the City University PhD program for computer security, and I've accepted."

His eyes flickered, "Congratulations."

"Thank you." She swallowed other words along with a mouthful of hot tea.

* * *

Work at the university was hard and satisfying. She found the campus gym and started attending regularly. Maybe in three years she may actually complete a pull up without assistance. This thought was somewhat encouraging. At the very least, it felt good to challenge her body as well as her mind. Plus, you never knew when a crazed villain may escape from his island prison and attack. One had to be prepared.

She met new men now, men whom she involuntarily assaulted with her infamous, unfiltered babble. They laughed, but it was never quite as thrilling. Maybe it was because it seemed polite. Maybe it was because none were ever as serious to begin with. She'd always been a sucker for a challenge.

She had a staggering amount in common with one of the other students in her small cohort. Both had grown up in Las Vegas, both had absent parents, and both were totally obsessed with Game of Thrones. He even had a pretty defined chest and loved The Hood. Yet, this new, human development never pushed her to babble.

Laurel Lance started hanging around. Something about law tutoring for students. They ran into each other on campus, in cafes, and in the library. Eventually, they met on purpose for coffee, drinks, and even lunch. It became a kind of thing.

Sometimes, Laurel would even report on Oliver.

"He's been very reserved," she frowned. "I hardly see him. Diggle seems worried."

"Hmmm," Felicity would sigh, barely having to feign nonchalance. "I'm sure he's just busy. Always playing the hero these days." She couldn't resist.

"Yeah," Laurel nodded, running a hand through her perfect hair, which accentuated a defined bicep. Wow. Felicity needed to inquire about Laurel's gym.

* * *

The next summer, one year later, she wandered out of the City U library at sunset. It was hard to believe that her first year was already over. Last night, Ross had said his goodbyes before his return home to Las Vegas for the season, and Felicity spent today editing her last academic journal. She smiled, enjoying the odd sense of peace in the middle of the city. She waited at a corner for the bus and studied her reflection in the shelter. Gone were the tight, styled ponytail and form fitting dresses. In their place were the loose, air-dried waves of a student, cargo jacket, and simple white dress. Her smile grew. She liked this girl. She recognized this girl.

The bus arrived, and she stepped on. A sudden flash of movement on a nearby building caught her attention and sent her pulse pounding. It was astonishing how quickly the mind reverted to its old habits. A strange shadow, a silhouette on a rooftop, a hulking man in a hoodie, and her brain reeled. She still remembered the night with the caked blood and confessions. She still remembered all of it. She remembered it all of the time.

There was nothing there now. It must have been a trick of the light.

* * *

In the fall, Barry popped back into her life along with coursework and research. He was currently sprawled across her workstation, doing his best to impede all further progress on her project.

"I saw Oliver the other day," he laughed, eyes dancing. She rolled her own. "He asked me about you."

"Oh?" There was an uncomfortable strain in her chest. "How did you run into each other?"

"It was purposeful," Barry shrugged. "A meeting to discuss vigilantism, crime fighting…you know," he laughed, "The usual."

She snorted. Oddly, she had no idea what to say.

"Yeah," his look turned uncomfortable. "He asked me to pass this along." Slowly, he revealed a small envelope from his coat pocket. She felt as eager to handle it as a live snake.

"Thanks," she forced out. She placed it on the far edge of her desk.

Once Barry had departed, she stared at the offending paper for a long time. Over an hour.

The laboratory smoke detectors weren't sensitive enough to register the small fire in her trashcan.

* * *

Later, two weeks after the letter, she went to Verdant with some other students. She wore a sinful dress and far too much makeup. She drank enough to regret it and danced until she could no longer stand.

The next day, she felt a sick pride that Ross had only once inquired if she'd been looking for someone.

* * *

Apparently eighteen months and four days was the time limit for estrangement.

Oliver Queen stood outside the peephole of her new apartment in a suit and a tailored black wool jacket. She snorted; of course he knew where she lived. He was in full playboy regalia and snow peppered his short hair.

"Felicity," he stared through the door as if he could see her. She shivered from more than just the outside chill. "Please let me in."

The figurative implications of that request were mind-boggling. Her hand rested on the doorknob uncertainly. He was so close to her. She could practically feel his heat radiating through the wood. His eyes were still the shade of blue so fit for obliterating all of her inhibition.

She sighed. She opened the door. Her one act of rebellion was a refusal to move another inch further into her place.

He eyed her flannel pants and grey tank top. "I've been thinking about what you said." Just like that. As if they finished the almost two-year-old conversation only moments ago. She didn't deign to give him a response.

He fixed her with the look that saw straight through her. "I stayed away because you wanted me to stay away."

She snorted.

"I never wanted to say goodbye. I never wanted to lose you."

She gave him a look, pushing her glasses up her nose.

"You never read the letter."

She was livid. "You didn't lose me," she hissed. "I've been here this whole time. I've been totally reachable." He had the decency to flush. She bit her lip as her angry, harried heartbeat drowned out her thoughts.

Suddenly, he drew back and morphed into the vigilante before her eyes.

"Bullshit," his voice rose deeply. She froze. He almost never lost his temper, and he _never_ used that tone with her. "You're a fucking enigma wrapped inside an unsolvable mystery Felicity Smoak!" He had her full attention now. Her eyes bored into his. "You're dangerous." His eyes were so bitingly blue.

She laughed. "_I'm_ dangerous?! I'm not the one with the deadly crossbow skills-"

"You're like a backwards black hole-"

She halted mid-comeback. Because what the hell was that? Wasn't she the one who was supposed to make no sense?

He looked awkward and uncomfortable. It was so delightfully out of character that she almost smiled. "I mean," he sighed. "Instead of sucking all of the light from the universe, you emit it. You brighten everything around you."

"I'm a backwards black hole?" She sounded incredulous.

He looked straight through her defenses again. "You bring out the light in me."

She lost her breath. It felt like drowning but in a good way. "Oh."

"Before the Hood, I smiled. I joked. Afterwards, everything was dark and serious." He shook his head, and a smile tugged at his lips. "You remind me how to laugh."

She rolled her eyes, "Because I constantly make a fool of myself?"

"No." He was firm, and her gaze met his once again.

If she was the opposite of a black hole, than Oliver was the sun. She had almost forgotten how insanely good-looking he was. God, he practically _rippled_ underneath his clothes. Though she had mentally and emotionally divorced Oliver years ago, her body was a different story. She was a tense ball of hormones around him. "My body never said goodbye to you."

His smile grew. His eyes twinkled.

"I mean," she ran her hands over her face. "I mean I'm stronger than my body. I felt," she faltered. "I felt weak before."

His smile disappeared. He was quiet for a long time. "Will you answer one question?"

She gulped, "…Yes."

His eyes shone in the moonlight from her kitchen window. "Do you miss me?"

Silence enveloped them for several long moments.

"Yes," she breathed finally. She couldn't lie to him.

His eyes burned. He emitted a determined energy and broke through the invisible barrier between them. "Felicity," her name on his lips did things to her insides. "I want to see you. I want to see you everyday but not like before. Not like before at all."

"Ok," her voice shook.

He stepped forward. He embraced her. She felt apoplectic with shock. He held her tight in his arms. "I missed you so much," he whispered into her hair. It took a while, but she relaxed against him. She took in his familiar smell. She melted into his warm, solid body.

Even nearly two years later, it still felt like coming home. Like reuniting with the missing half of herself.

* * *

Apparently, vigilantism was contagious.

"I need someone well-versed in computers." The following day, Laurel sat across from her with an earnest expression. Felicity wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Did she unconsciously attract these people?

Instead she said, "I'll do it." Working for a woman felt a far wiser decision than others from a previous life. Less conflict of interest.

"Seriously?" Laurel had been expecting a battle.

"Seriously," Felicity smiled. Now, she had her best friend back _and_ a new job.

* * *

Oliver, however, didn't really need to know.

He smiled at her over a large mug of coffee. He sank into the plush armchair in her apartment.

"I can't return to Team Arrow," she shook her head, stirring her own coffee absently. This still felt so surreal.

"I know," Oliver nodded. He looked at her as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "I want to hear about your program. I'm sure you've managed to hack into the IMF and singlehandedly dismantle terrorist plots."

She guffawed, "You give me far too much credit."

"Not nearly enough," his eyes clouded. They were feet apart. As if afraid to get any closer.

Things were different now. The territory was riddled with emotional landmines and stuttering moments of re-acquaintance. And yet, she smiled. It felt wonderful to not be the only one out of her depth. For once, she felt in control. She was his equal now in every sense of the word.

"_Oliver_," he looked up with eyes full of warmth. She learned he loved it when she said his name. "Promise me that you will stop apologizing."

He smirked, "_Felicity_," she beamed in response. "I can't do that."

* * *

Felicity missed working for Team Arrow.

Six months later and she was nearly finished her program, but her work with Laurel had grown so intensely demanding and frustrating that it drove her mad. Oliver was prone to his fits of silent brooding, but Laurel could fly off the handle at a moment's notice.

Laurel was a helpful friend during Oliver's absence, but she was a workaholic. Of the worst variety.

Oliver liked to remind her of this fact on a daily basis. "Felicity," he quipped, currently striding towards her with her favorite cup of coffee in tow. She smiled as he set down the large mug on their table in a cozy campus café.

"I really shouldn't," she hesitated, quickly working out the disgusting amounts of coffee she'd consumed in the past months. "And yet…" she shrugged, moaning as she took her first sip.

His phone buzzed. Not an uncommon occurrence. "Hmmm," he rumbled with a furrowed brow as he observed the screen. Her fingers itched to swipe the device away and get her eyes on the mission. She missed her old desk. She missed the ridiculous green lighting and the pounding club beats overhead. She'd been obsessively scouring the police scanner for Hood news for weeks.

She wanted her old team back.

"Oh, _what is it already?!_" She cried, nearly upending her mug.

He quirked a brow. "Problem Ms. Smoak?"

"That's _Dr._ Smoak," she huffed. "Now, let me see the phone."

His eyes flashed. A challenge. "No."

"_Oliver_," she warned.

"You don't work for me anymore."

"I don't care-"

"When you worked for me," he continued firmly, "You were unhappy. I wasn't fair to you." His look softened, and his eyes turned a striking blue.

She took a breath and set her jaw. "Fine. Just answer one question."

He smiled, "OK."

"Do you miss me?"

His smile grew, "Every day."

* * *

In the end, Laurel wasn't all that upset about her resignation.

Felicity beamed as her fingers flew over the keys, and she called instructions over her earpiece. Excitement and adrenaline coursed through her like a drug. God, _she had missed this._

"Mr. Simon should be exiting through the kitchens any second now," heat curled in her belly as she followed the tracking software on her screens. Oliver's steady breath reverberated in her ears. "Here he comes."

"Got him."

She sat back with satisfaction as the vigilante did his job.

Later, Oliver returned with a spring in his step. Or as close to it as he could come. Diggle shot him a sidelong look.

Oliver set down his bow. "The band's back together, John."

Diggle just shook his head and laughed.

* * *

Ray Palmer burst into her life like an unexpected tornado.

"Dr. Smoak," his dark eyes pinned her to her chair from the moment they caught sight of her. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Pleasure is," she inhaled, "Yes, so just-" his mouth quirked upwards. "_Such_ a pleasure," she shook his hand vigorously. Curse it. Her and her nonfunctioning mouth.

He was a fellow business tycoon in town to research real estate. Ray was looking to begin construction on a nuclear fusion lab and thought Starling City would be the perfect market. Felicity couldn't help but feel impressed. It wasn't every day a gal met a nuclear physicist and an attractive one at that!

It wasn't long before Ray began inquiring about her weekend plans and then inserting himself into them. She didn't mind. Ross had disappeared months ago, and she'd felt an undeniable attraction to Ray immediately. One Friday night, she was inspecting her reflection in her compact before dinner with Ray while Oliver lingered behind her.

Clearly, he was brooding about something.

She turned to confront him but stopped herself.

That _"I love you,"_ had been over two years ago, and it had nearly destroyed her. As soon as she walked out on Oliver, Felicity knew love was a road to be forever forbidden. In fact, she'd always known it. The Hood was the single worst candidate for a relationship in the history of the world. She knew that. She'd always known that. It wasn't until he took her for granted and used her as bait that she'd forgotten.

She didn't forget now.

She was happy. They worked together as a team, and that was all she'd ever wanted. Team Arrow was the first true family she'd ever known, and all she'd ever wanted growing up had been a family.

"Going to see Ray?" His tone was cold.

"Mm hmm," she nodded, turning and giving him a tight smile.

His eyes were an icy blue. It froze the breath in her lungs. After a few loaded moments, she closed her compact with a snap.

She stood up, shrugging on a light jacket with annoyance. "You can stop acting like my overprotective brother, you know." She flipped her hair outside of her coat and pulled on her purse. "I like Ray a lot."

He sighed but didn't move a muscle. "I'm happy that you're happy."

She narrowed her eyes. "And I'm happy that you're happy that I'm happy."

He gave her a look. She bristled. As if he had any right to feel exasperated. She'd had to endure his restless pacing for the past two hours. She repressed the absurd notion to stick out her tongue at him.

"Goodnight Felicity," his smile was steel and his eyes piercing.

She wiggled her fingers at him while bidding him adieu with an exaggerated grin.

Her heart only slowed down when she reached the restaurant. Blast but that man could be so incredibly infuriating!

* * *

This was such a cliché.

Team Arrow's latest mission required her participation. Currently, she was undercover as Oliver Queen's latest arm candy. She could barely repress a gag as he schmoozed other billionaires with fabricated tales of wasteful exorbitance. His left hand stroked her lower back, and she was struck with a pang of sadness. It was such a shame that none of these people would ever see the real Oliver. It must be ceaselessly exhausting to live his double life.

"_Darling_?"

His sharp hiss caught her attention.

"Care to ease it on the judgment over there? You're practically exuding revulsion."

"Sorry," she shook her head and noticed he'd steered them outside. It was nearly November, and she clutched her bare arms in the cold. "I've never been gifted in the covert-ops department."

She felt him shake with laughter. "And I've always been well aware of that fact." He exhaled, and she looked his way. He gazed out across the city, and his expression was unreadable as always. "Somehow, you've still managed to charm all of my acquaintances." He shook his head in some secret amusement. "I've never heard so many remarks about the improvement in the caliber of my date in my life. I don't know whether to feel flattered or insulted."

"Flattered, naturally," she answered archly. He turned to her and gave her his most incapacitating smile. He should utilize that skill on missions. He could smile the bad guys to destruction.

"If they knew the real you," she spoke mainly to break the quiet of their locked gaze, giving voice to her earlier thoughts. He shifted beside her. "They wouldn't be so surprised." She shrugged, "I was thinking that it's such a shame you're forced to hide it from everyone. You're taking all of the risks but getting none of the recognition. You're a changed man; you're a _good_ man. Everyone should know that."

He was silent. Stubbornly, she felt her cheeks heat. She had no reason to feel embarrassed. They'd shared several meaningful conversations by this point, and they were never awkward. Damn it. She just had to open her mouth. She fidgeted with her bag and ached to escape this moment. She should check her phone. Ray probably wanted an update on her-

"If they knew the real me," his voice was uncharacteristically hoarse, and the hairs rose on the back of her neck. She felt his body turn towards her. Heat radiated off of him in waves. Some part of her wanted to, but she couldn't turn to fully face him. A larger part of her felt stuck to the spot with one hand on the balcony railing. She stared at a point just over his right shoulder.

He cleared his throat, "If they-" his hesitation scorched her skin. He sighed, and she noticed his shoulders sag from the corner of her eye. She gripped the railing like a vice. "Without the mask, I'm vulnerable," he finally finished.

Breath returned to her lungs, and she slowly released her grip. Eventually, she could look at him. His eyes were so raw they nearly tore her apart. He looked undone. For once, he was staring at her like the victim who needed saving. She'd seem him in all manners of undress more times than she could count, but she'd never seen him this naked.

Somehow, she managed to stumble while standing completely still, and her hand brushed against his. This same phenomenon had occurred many times before, but tonight was different. A powerful shock of electricity zinged up her arm and down her spine from the modest contact, and she gasped. "_Oh_," she breathed, unable to stop herself. Was it just her, or did Oliver's eyes turn three shades darker?

"Queen," his hand shot up to his ear, a message coming through his earpiece from the lair. He nodded tightly, and she relished the moment to collect herself. "Let Roy handle it."

She had absolutely no clue what was going on tonight and guiltily peeked at her phone. Her stomach unclenched. There were no missed alerts from Ray. She sighed; she didn't know why she had a sense of wrongdoing anyway. Ray _knew_ very well what she was doing tonight with Oliver. He was totally cool with it.

When she looked up from her phone, Oliver was smiling at her expectantly. Gone was the terrifying and vulnerable man from moments ago. "Ready to continue the charade, Dr. Smoak?" He offered her his arm.

"Always," she smirked back and accepted.

* * *

Sometimes, when it was just the two of them, and they were enduring a particularly stressful mission, Oliver would plunge Verdant into club mode in the daytime. Somehow, he always managed to choose Felicity's favorite song of the moment and blast it over the top-notch stereo system.

Then, despite everything. Despite her sweatpants, his exhaustion, or her total lack of partying experience - they would dance. She would close her eyes, lose herself, and let it all out with the music.

Eventually, she'd open her eyes to find Oliver doing some exaggerated fist pumping, hip thrusting, or equally absurd movement, and she would join him until the game escalated into utter stupidity. By the end of the song, they would always end up laughing their guts out on the floor. She'd wipe tears from her eyes as the music surged, lights flashed, and Oliver mirrored her fight to catch her breath. In these moments, she felt absolute bliss. Her cheeks hurt from smiling, and she knew he felt the exact same way as their eyes locked. It was amazing to see him so happy.

Before long, he'd start nodding along again until they repeated the whole ridiculous thing. It could last minutes or hours. Sometimes, they even drank. Every time, their troubles became far more feasible.

Tonight, as Oliver finished gyrating to Britney Spears, she gasped for air and clutched at her sides. She collapsed, and he fell down beside her on a low velvet couch. His eyes glowed with total mirth in the club lights.

"Why is real partying never this fun?" She wondered loudly.

He nudged her with his shoulder. "Because you have to get too drunk in order to feel this free."

She chuckled and smiled at him. "I have way too much fun dancing like an idiot with you."

His smile grew, "I'm totally ashamed of myself. No one should see me like this."

"I know!" She motioned down to her sweatpants. "This is a new level of trust. I know it's already an unspoken agreement, but we can never tell anyone about this."

"I promise," he reached for her hand and pulled her in. She felt like she was choking on air. "I will take this secret to my grave." He shook her hand, and she nodded in agreement. The song ended. A new one began with a slower beat. He didn't let go.

She pulled her hand away and knew she imagined his look of disappointment. "That's a bit morbid for my taste, but I'll take it."

He smiled again, and a beat thumped strongly in her chest that had nothing to do with the music.

* * *

Things with Ray had been strained as of late.

Crime had surged in November through this week before the holidays, and Felicity had been spending almost all of her time in the lair.

Oliver stormed in from the gathering blizzard after another successful albeit stressful mission, and Diggle seethed in right behind him. Roy arrived a few minutes later. Oliver ripped off his hood and stomped past her without a word. She raised a questioning brow at Diggle. His look darkened, "He's an idiot."

"Ooookay," she responded, returning her attention to her safe computer screens. _Definitely_ not getting involved in that. Roy took off his mask and gave the training dummy several enthusiastic thwacks. Apparently, he was in contrastingly joyful spirits.

The boys' noise soon faded into the background as she pounded reports of their latest missions into the database and did several last minute scans of surrounding servers. Currently, she was testing out the prototype from her thesis. It could decrypt any security program installed in under ten minutes.

"Felicity," a male voice rumbled behind her, and she instinctively leaned back into the pressure on her chair. Ray must have come to take her home. She hadn't checked her phone for hours.

The man hesitated behind her, and she was plunged back into the reality of her surroundings. Damn it, she was definitely not back in her apartment. She was still in the lair. Cringing, she sat up straight and stretched her back; what time was it anyway? The blazing computer screen read 3:04 A.M.

She turned to find Oliver standing behind her with a penetrating gaze. Her hands flew self-consciously to her hair. She must look an absolute fright. "I lost track of the time…" her voice was scratchy with disuse.

His eyes softened, and his mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile. "I know. You've been doing that a lot."

His was so close. She could count his eyelashes. "Ray will be so angry."

His mouth twitched further upwards as his eyes shone. "Ray will definitely be angry."

Heat trickled down her neck and engulfed her entire body. He'd turned her chair around until his hands rested on her armrests. He'd fully invaded her personal space. She froze. They hadn't been this close since the hug during their reconciliation. She much preferred the distance. Her breathing was coming in erratic spurts.

"I don't know if anyone will see me the way you do," his warm voice rolled over her as her mind caught on; he was continuing their months-old conversation from the balcony. She did not know another person who took so long to formulate a response. "But I'm hanging up my hood. I'm tired of hiding."

She did a double take. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Her eyes found his; his serious expression was a confirmation. Suddenly, emotion welled up in her chest, and she feared she might burst. She was mortified to feel her eyes prickle with tears. She felt sad, she felt confused, she felt indescribable happiness – damn it she'd devolved into an absolute mess. And all from the few muttered words of Oliver Queen. Words that were still enigmatic no matter how much he laced them with gravelly insinuation. "I don't understand," she managed, hand covering her mouth. "The hood is your whole life. We're a team-"

"I want a new life," his voice was firm. His eyes needled into her. "And I want us to always be a team." He lowered himself down. He was on his knees before her.

She was slipping into the depths of his probing gaze and growing far too used to the rough fingers tracing up and down her forearms before she knew it. This was too easy. Wasn't this the reason she walked out all those many months ago? She had allowed herself the privilege of feeling where it was forbidden. She'd been so stupid. Just like Oliver, she couldn't risk caring for anyone while working for Team Arrow. It was too dangerous. Plus, this was impossible. He wasn't confessing his romantic feelings for her. Felicity doubted he still had the capacity for such things. His whole life was this mission. His whole life was this fight.

"I love you," he whispered as if overhearing her inner monologue, and unbidden tears spilled onto her cheeks. Damn it, she hated still being so affected. She thought she'd gotten over this - she had Ray.

"I want you," he continued despite her tumult "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry that it took me so long to tell you. If I," he stuttered, laughing to himself. She sniffled, and he brushed a thumb across her cheeks to wipe away her tears. His look engulfed her. "If I felt less then I'd be able to talk about it more."

She sniffled again, starting to shake as his hands gently cupped her face. This couldn't be real. This was too much. "You're timing is impeccable," she breathed, groping for humor or some sense of normalcy to calm her short-circuiting nerves.

His laugh was deep with affection. "I know. I wagered on the fact that you know I'm miserable at this sort of stuff." He pulled back for a moment, looking sheepish. "I had to wait until I deserved you."

Her mouth dropped open. This was really happening. Oliver was confessing his love for her. He was giving up his vigilante life. It appeared as if he was on his knees and offering her everything. She could in no way process this.

She could, however, process the very real feel of him pressed up against her legs and draped across her chair. She could appreciate the hooded danger of his expression. She'd been appreciating it for years. His skin burned her through their clothes. His fingers began tracing bewitching patterns behind her ears and thoughts abandoned her. She met his heated gaze, and his jaw clenched. That was the last straw. It unleashed something primal within her.

She pushed off of her chair, as he seemed to read her mind. He pulled her flush against him, burying a hand into the base of her hair. His other hand reached up for her glasses and pulled them slowly off of her face.

Fuck, if it wasn't the single sexiest moment of her life.

She couldn't breath as his mouth descended, and his lips threatened to dissolve any and all of her reservations. He kissed like it was his job. Like he was born to do it. She finally understood how one's oral prowess could entice another immediately into bed. Oliver's lips were designed for bedrooms and sin. He could demand all of her prized electronics right now, and she would immediately acquiesce.

She met him with everything she had, and damn it if he didn't kiss just like he fought. He was relentless, he was ruthless. Everything between them felt poured into this moment. Years of friendship, love, and repression. She felt every wall she'd spent years building up crumble within her. His hand slid down her back and over the curve of her ass. She greedily touched every inch of his hard body that she'd watched hungrily for years. Everything was feeling, sensation, and want as she opened her mouth and let him in deeper.

His moan made her dizzy, and she eagerly shifted as he slowly lowered them down to the lair floor. Her whole body felt like it was on hyper drive. Oliver was kissing her as if his life depended on it, and she was so caught up in this moment. Everything was happening so fast. Nothing had ever felt so good.

Her phone rang.

"Ray!" She gasped, sitting upright.

Oliver rubbed his jaw where of course she'd just head-butted him. "Not exactly the reaction I was expecting…" he murmured as she rubbed her tender nose and tears stung her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she breathed as her phone continued to chime in the cavernous space. Real life came roaring back into her ears. _What the hell was she thinking_? She was cheating! She had just cheated on her boyfriend with Oliver Queen. Guilt hit her like a ton of bricks. Tears swelled onto her cheeks once again. "Shit," she muttered to herself. She felt Oliver shift beside her. The man she'd just thrown everything away for. _Again_.

Suddenly, she was angry.

"_Do you deserve me_?" She rounded on him as her phone mercifully stopped. His hooded eyes went wide. "Do you even know what you're asking me? Do I even get a chance to consider it?" Her accusations rang sharply.

"You are free to do whatever you want. Truly, all I want is for you to be happy," his tone was too steady. It pushed her over the edge.

"I cannot believe this," she ground out as she stood, outraged at herself, "You're already shutting down!" She watched as he flinched but didn't care. He'd exploded everything again! _Again_! She breathed hard.

"You, Oliver Queen, have no clue what it means to be with another person; you especially have no idea what it means to be with me! And I'm _not_ free to do whatever I want." She pointed a finger into his face, and he stood up to meet her. She liked it so much better when she towered above him. "What if what I want is to work here in the lair _forever_?! What if all I want is my vigilante family?" His eyes burned into hers. Her mouth could barely keep up with her thoughts. "Fat chance of that now! Once again, you've screwed that up-"

"Well then," his face flushed, and his voice went deadly soft. "Kindly inform me how to make it better. Because I can leave you alone, I can try to be your friend, I can watch you date an utter buffoon, and then I can give up my entire life just to show you how much you mean to me, but somehow it's never enough!" He ran both hands through his hair. "I'm at my _wit's end_, Felicity!" Eyes blazing, he was two inches from her face now.

"All I know, is that if I have to watch him look at you one more time, or fend off another billionaire daughter's pass, or wake up tomorrow without you by my side, properly, I will lose myself. I will throw myself into the Hood and never come back," he exhaled. His eyes softened. "I could do that, but I don't want to. I never thought," he swallowed and clenched his jaw. "On that island and since my return, I never thought that it would be possible for me to live a normal life. I turned myself into something else." Her pulse caught in her throat. "And yet you could always see me, even from the first moment we met," he smiled. "Through your eyes I've been able to see myself…or the man I'd like to be. You reminded of things I'd long forgotten. You _made_ me want something different." His gaze pierced straight through her. "And I know damn well how to be with you," he swallowed. "_Especially_ you."

Her stomach swooped down to her toes. She was dumbstruck.

"Well," she finally managed, her intended reprimand coming out more like a wheeze. How did his eyes grow so dark? "_Well_," she tried again, and his eyebrow quirked. Her knees grew weak. "If you're _so_ sure of yourself," she inhaled, and he crossed his arms. "Then you won't mind answering these highly inappropriate and personal questions."

His look didn't waver. "Ask away."

"Are you saying you want to marry me?" She squared her shoulders. "Are we going to buy a house together and live together? Do you want me to be the mother of your children? Should I start doodling 'Mrs. Queen' on all of my things?"

"Yes."

Her heart leapt, but she scowled. He was taking this too far. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

"_Felicity_, I haven't seen anyone else for over two years."

"Sooo you're lonely, and I'm the last viable option?"

He hissed, and his voice came out as a growl. "That's not true, and you know it."

He was still so close. She hated herself for wanting so badly to touch him as her mind caught up to reality. He had kissed her. He had run his hands through her hair and touched her all over. She'd never felt so _much_. It was arousing, it was exciting, but it was so much more than that. This moment, his look, her heart – it was more than she'd ever known. "I've," her voice trembled. "I've spent so much time convincing myself that I'm not in love with you," her voice caught in her throat. She still couldn't lie to him. "And I really hate being wrong."

"Are you not in love with me?" He looked ill. "Are you in love with Ray?"

She stared at him. He looked like he was about to cry. She'd never seen him so exposed. Words began pouring out of her like rain before she could help herself, "I told myself that we were just best friends. That I imagined the looks, the feelings, the trust that I shared with no one else-"

"You weren't imagining it," his eyes keened with emotion. "I've been in love with you since the day you walked away. I know you'll hate that and read into it, but it's true. Before you always meant the world to me, but I dismissed anything more as impossible. And yet I was always possessive," he smiled ruefully, and she felt her lips curve up despite herself. He shrugged in the most disarming way. "I couldn't help myself. I couldn't have you, but no one else could either. I didn't dwell on it at the time."

She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. _Crap_. She hadn't counted on that. Usually, it took him a minimum of two months to respond to the difficult questions. Now, her heart beat a tattoo against her ribs, and she was sweating. "Oliver," she may possibly be experiencing her first panic attack. She wrung her hands together, "I am so fucking terrified right now."

He barked with laughter, and the foreign sound shocked away some of her tension. She forgot that he'd always loved to hear her curse. She gulped down air as he wrapped her clammy hands in his warm ones. She doubted anything had ever felt this comforting, and his loving gaze held her captive. Because that's what it was, _loving_. "Me too," he finally answered, eyes laced with sincerity. "Diggle has wanted me committed for months-"

"_Diggle_ knows!?" She gasped, pulling her hands up to her cheeks. Oliver looked more amused than ever. She squealed, "I'm officially mortified!"

His eyes danced, "Just wait until I'm whispering sweet nothings into your ear around the office."

"_Oliver_!" His grin grew. She felt her lips quirk up too, sure her dimples were out in full force. For a moment, it felt like they were back in their daytime club, ecstatic in their own, shared world.

"_Felicity_," he was so close again that his breath tickled her skin. "When you look at me that way, it's impossible not to kiss you."

She snorted, "I worry that I look at you this way all of the time, so if that's true then I'm not sure how you function."

His look turned desperate. It set her on fire.

"_Oh_," she managed.

"Yeah."

"This is real."

"Yes."

"I don't know if I've ever experienced something like this, you know, outside of my dreams. Am I dreaming? Is this just an exercise? Because, then, I…" she bit her lip. "I'm still not quite sure what to do."

His voice lowered. "I think you should break up with Ray."

Heat fanned out stronger across her entire body. "I think you're extremely presumptuous in thinking that you can tell me what to do."

"Then _I_ think," he stepped closer, "That you're about to be a very bad, unfaithful girlfriend. And we both don't want that."

Damn it, just his voice made her toes curl! She turned away, unable to focus otherwise. She put a hand to her head. She tried, and failed, to clear her mind. Finally, she turned around with a huff, hand reaching for her phone-

He handed it to her, Ray's number already punched into the keypad.

* * *

His hands smoothed lightly about her waist, slowly, hesitantly caressing up her ribs. It made her breathless. "Oh my God," she jumped away, and her voice came out as a whimper. She was too on edge. She could never grow used to the feel of him. They were hiding out underneath an awning during an unexpected downpour, it was two in the afternoon on a Sunday, and they had stepped out to pick up a late lunch.

"No," he mumbled against her temple, "Just Oliver."

She scoffed, "Always so full of yourself. It's an unattractive quality."

"Mm," he rasped against her jaw now as she squirmed. "I think you like it when I'm cocky."

"Geez," in contrast, she felt gawky and uncoordinated as he nuzzled further into her neck. "You sure like to touch me," she laughed nervously. It had been two days since his confession, and she had barely let him near her. She didn't trust herself.

He laughed wickedly, "I _really _like to touch you." He knew just how uncomfortable this made her, and he was loving it. The bastard.

She moaned as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. They both froze. She was horrified. That had been totally involuntary. He pulled back-

"Oliver I'm-"

"_Felicity_," his voice was strangled. "You are killing me right now."

Something - his eyes, their entangled position in this incredibly dingy alley in the Glades, him spending time with her on a Sunday, his scent, or maybe just the way he said her name – _something_ shattered her resolve once and for all.

She gave him her most incapacitating grin. She loved the way it affected him. She loved the way she could see his reactions now and believe in them. "Let's run home in the rain," she breathed, feeling free.

His eyebrows hitched. He hesitated. Then, he redoubled his efforts to secure a hold on their food.

Minutes later and soaking wet, they made it to her apartment out of breath from both the run and the laughter. She loved how they could always find fun in the simplest of things.

He set down the food as she wrung out her hair. Rain pattered outside and lent a hush to the room as his hands stilled, and she fought down her raging nerves. His eyes found hers. He moved slowly towards her. When he reached for the hem of her shirt, she let him peel off her wet clothes and then returned the favor with trembling hands until they stood together in their underwear. He never took his eyes off of her. She had never felt more beautiful.

Then, she let him touch her. She let herself touch him. For the rest of the afternoon. And all of the afternoons after that.

Four years. It had only taken a little over four years.

*-* END *-*


End file.
